Tag Archives: sex

The Long Way Home

27 Jul

*note from author: I debated long and hard if I should post this or not. If you choose to read on, you´ll see it is pretty graphic. X rated, even. A part from a few details in setting, the story is fiction despite the opening line. I really want to make that clear. The exercise was to write a fist person, raunchy story. With that said, reader discretion is advised.

party

The following story is factually true. Take into consideration it is being told through the distorted lens of a drunken teenage boy. Seventeen years already has history distorting powers. Let´s take into consideration the alcoholic soup the story swims in. Reader discretion advised. Enjoy.

It started off as a typical Friday night. Warm ups included whatever was the cheapest thirty pack of beer the store had to offer and taking turns on the gravity bong. The gravity bong for the uninitiated is simply the most ridiculous homemade device for smoking marijuana. Google it. Ours was a one gallon milk jug in a bucket of water. The same bucket we used to clean the house. Who am I kidding, the house never got cleaned.

We were good and wrecked when somebody suggested we go to frat row in down town New Brunswick, New Jersey to “get fucked up”. We were all attending an educational establishment too embarrassing to mention here, so we piggy backed the party scene at Rutgers University. We decided I was not sober enough to drive so someone else, who was probably equally inebriated but could hide it better, did.

At this stage of my life, Friday and Saturday nights had two purposes. Get wasted on whatever I could get my hands and cumming. The former happened regularly, the latter, at least at the hands of others, not so much. We got to the party and I set my internal radar on drugs, alcohol and any girl with self esteem low enough to touch me. On this fortunate night, I scored on all three fronts.

As I said, full recollection of this story is impossible but some things are still clear. The girl I struck up a conversation with was blond, so skinny she could elicit pity and had awful teeth. I remember the teeth because this is a pet peeve of mine, but I was talking and she was listening so I looked away. I remember playing a few rounds of beer pong when she suggested we find somewhere a little more private to enjoy each other´s company.

The Rutgers frat houses are strange structures. They are the old mansions of Johnson and Johnson executives from a century gone by. They are full of little hidden hallways, staircases and rooms that are hard to imagine what purpose they once served. We found an unoccupied room that only fit a bunk bed. You had to contort you body just to get into the thing. Bingo! We found our love nest.

We started making out and I managed to get her clothes off. She was too drunk to get mine off so I was obliged to help. I don´t remember much from this passionate encounter but I remember a few things. First, we did not have sex. As you will see, it would have better if we had because I would have been able to break her evil spell, get away from her and the rest of the night would not have gone down the way it did. We were then interrupted by a chubby fellow and told to leave the ex slave´s quarters immediately.

I pretended to like her for a few more hours with the hopes that she would make that sneezey feeling in my crotch that seemed to be the focus of my life. The party was winding down and I noticed my ride had left. She offered her place to crash. What a coincidence. I wish I could give more details of what happened next but I really don´t remember.

I do doubt we had intercourse because no black out is stronger than an orgasm. No matter how drunk or high I was, I remember them all and file them to be later used in search of manual relief. When I refer to this night in my mind, a message comes up “file empty”. But the story does not end here.

I woke up in a strange place. I was cold. In fact I was shivering. I pulled the covers over my shoulders. Colder yet. What gives. I looked around. I was clearly in a girl´s room but there was no girl. I put my hand down on the mattress. I realized what had happened. Exactly what I feared most as a twelve year old when I slept over at friend´s houses had happened. I made water in her bed, Miss Daisy. It was a gusher too. Everything was wet. My mind raced despite the pounding headache. I thought about gathering my things and jumping out the window. We were on the third story.

I did what any honorable man in my position would do. I pulled my jeans over my pissed in underwear, put the rest of my clothes on and went down stairs. She didn´t even look up from the television. This I remember as if it were yesterday. I told it was fun and it was nice to have met her. I even remembered my manners and told her she had a lovely home despite the fact it looked like a future hoarders episode. It was a few years away from that but that´s ok because the show hadn´t been invented yet. Like the gentlemen I was, I offered my phone number. She told me to write it on the dry erase board on the fridge. It had the grocery list and I felt bad about erasing it so I left it alone.

This was an age before cell phones. I had no cash for a cab and not even the bus. I was a good five miles from where I lived. Talk about walk of shame? This was the Bataan Death March of shame. I put my head down low and took that walk. I threw up a few times along the way but I made it. I was greeted with a round of high fives. I regaled them with my tale and I was awarded the “green hit” from the gravity bong for my troubles.

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Dirty Work

15 Aug

maid

“It´s hard to pay the bills sometimes” Sheila said as she nervously puffed a cigarette and stared out of the window at nothing and everything at the same time. “You got to do what you got to do sometimes”

“Aren´t you ashamed of yourself?” Beth asked. She had just found out Sheila´s secret font of income.

“No!” Sheila said turning her head and fixing her gaze at Beth. “Not for one second”

“Calm down, Sheila. I am not saying that you should be. I am just asking as a friend”

“Well, stop asking. I don´t want to talk about it” Sheila said as she freed another cigarette from the pack and lit it with the burning filter of the last one. “What the fuck were you doing there in the first place?”

“I go there sometimes. That´s all” Beth said, now feeling the spot light of shame shining on her. “Listen, we all do things for money that we are not proud of sometimes. It´s ok.”

“No, we don´t! There are many people in this world that do not even have to do anything to get stuff. They were just born with stuff. They do not have to humiliate themselves ever and they even get to live better than those who do!” Sheila said now crying.

“Listen, Sheila, that´s life. Some people are born with everything, some are born with nothing. Some are born healthy, some are born dead! That´s just the way it goes. It is what it is” Beth stopped when she realized she sounded like a cliché reproducing robot.

“Well I was not born to greet people as they come into Wal-mart!” Sheila said, her eyes now furiously pouring tears.

 

Serfs Up!

7 Feb

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Merek was a serf that lived in what is today a suburb of Munster, Germany. He was tied to an estate owned by Lord Althalos where he had to work the land and hand over around 25 percent of what he produced. If you look at today´s tax rates, that´s not so bad but it is beside the point. Merek was married to the beautiful Ryia. She was one of the most beautiful serfs in all the land. Her beauty transcended her poverty in a way that beauty hardly ever can.

But like most men, 5 years after taking the nuptial nose dive, Merek grew tired of performing his husbandly duties with Ryia and his eyes grew for Duraina, the wife of his boss and essentially owner, Althalos. Merek knew that the feeling was mutual. Many hints were given. At the same time, there was a lot of social upheaval going on. They didn´t know it at the time, but the end of an epoch was upon them and the birth of another was awaking. Serfs were breaking their chains and going onto other fiefdoms in search of better conditions. In the way Merek was tired of making love to Ryia, he was tired of making such low wages.

He was being courted by the land owner Xalvador who was not only offering a more fertile land to work, but would ask for a lower percentage of the yield making the deal extremely attractive. Merek not only wanted to go to Xalvador´s land, but he wanted to do so alone. He knew what he would have to do. Althalos would never let him go and neither would Ryia without a really good reason. Merek thought he knew what would motivate them to let him move along.

Summer came and went and autumn gave way to a brutal winter. Spring offered much relief. As the land was thawing and Merek was preparing his tools to work the land a messenger came on horseback.

“Merek, you presence is being demanded in Lord Althalos’ main quarters” the messenger said gravely.

Merek prepared a snack for the day long journey, gave a kiss on the cheek to Ryia and was on his way.

He was met at the front door by Althalos who was red in the face from drink and rage.

“You bastard, lowly serf!” Althalos said. “I should have you burned at the stake!”

“Whatever is this all about, my lord?” Merek asked, faking ignorance.

“My eyes are blue and my hair, golden blond! The baby…well the baby has black peasant eyes and the dark locks of poverty!” Althalos was stumbling as he spoke. “You are to get off my land by sunset or you shall meet they maker”

“I am sure you are mistaken, my lord, but as you wish” Merek said, faking concern.

“As you wish” Merek thought to himself and had to turn his back quickly as to hide his grin.

Christian Chicks

1 Dec

sexy-inked-girls-tattoos-tatts-chicquero-praying-bride

 

“Why are you always going after Christian girls, Tony?” Nick asked.

“Well, I figure, they already beleive in stupid shit, so it is easy to convince them to come to bed with me” Tony replied matter of factly, as if he has been rehearsing this answer for some time.

“I never thought of it that way. But don’t they get all moral on you when things start to get hot and heavy?” Nick asked.

“Not really. You see, most of these Christian chicks are pretty messed up. If they didn’t have Jesus in thier life, they’d probably be drunks or drug users. So in that way, they have that thrill seeking gene. They get all Jesus upped at church on the weekend the same way some chicks get all decked out and sloppy at a club. During the week, the club chick don’t think about the club and the Christian girl don’t think about Jesus until Sunday. They are pretty similar in that way. But the Christians chicks are clean.”

“Wow, you got it all figured out, don’t you Tony” Nick said with admiration in his voice.

“Of course not. But it works for me” Tony said.

“I just have one more question. Don’t you feel bad that you are condemning them to a future of eternity in hell?” Nick asked.

With that question, Tony let out a roaring laugh that was so contagious that Nick couldn’t help but join him.